The Echo
by Baron Hotschaft Von Hugenstein
Summary: My name is Cassandra Brokenstar. I am a Shadowhunter. But there are stories, things he tells me of a world of Nephilim that did not worship Valentine. And now I know the truth. *CITY OF GLASS SPOILERS*
1. Introduction

**introduction**

"Sometimes, diseased plants must be culled to preserve the whole garden. And if all are diseased..."

Valentine Morgenstern  
_City of Glass  
_p 311


	2. Red

**chapter one: red**

Idris. Full of life. Full of color. Wiped away, washed out. No more greens, blues, yellows. Everything is red. The black clothes of slain Nephilim stained red. Seeping over the streets of Alicante. Red behind the eyes of the last Shadowhunter standing. Red in his matted black hair, on his hands. Red in his head.

Voices, one sick voice, cut through the red. The boy falls to his knees, red splashing up to greet him. He plays dead and prays please, Angel, let it be over.

"Are any of them alive?" The boy's heart writhes in his chest like maggots at the sound of his voice. "No," the man answers himself, "there's no way. No possibility. Look at the blood."

Blood. Blood red, blood red, blood red—

Black.

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**i am so proud of this chapter. you have no idea. review.**


	3. A New Race

**two: a new race**

My eyes fly open. _Damned nightmare_, I mutter to myself in my head. I rub my eyes and stare at my clock. The numbers squiggle like red worms. I fumble for my glasses and shove them on, now seeing that it's five in the morning. Ugh. Way too early to be awake, but too late to go back to sleep. I glance at the date on the clock. Friday, May 8, 2027.

My name is Cassandra Brokenstar, but I prefer the name Cassie. My parents, Elliot and Ardena Brokenstar, are trusted members of the Circle, once led by Our Lord Valentine. When Valentine was killed battling the rebelling Downworlders, his best friend Malachi was appointed head of the Circle in his place. My father is Malachi's second-in-command, and had been closely trusted by Our Lord Valentine.

I am sixteen years old. I spent my first thirteen years in Idris, the thirteen happiest years of my life. Then my older brother, Jonathan, died, killed fighting a Greater Demon, and I was whisked out of Idris. My parents uprooted me from my life and instead planted me in some Institute in New York City. The place smelled of vacancy, and Mom told me it had been abandoned for nearly twenty years. But when I asked who had lived in it before, she paled and stammered out a weak, "I don't know."

Now we live and work in the Institute full-time. My dad trains me well and hard—he himself had been trained by Our Lord Valentine's son Jonathan Morgenstern—and when I turn eighteen, my training will be up. I know I'll be a fierce Shadowhunter.

I kick my slippers on and pad downstairs. The New York air, though never completely dark, is as dark as possible. Cab horns honk impatiently and neon signs flash. My stomach growls, and I tear through the fridge, searching for something to eat. We have ketchup and mayonnaise. Not exactly the best bagel-toppers. I pull on a sweater over my sleep cami, covering the runes and scars dotting my arms and back, and throw on a bra. Then I step outside into the not-fully-darkened streets.

There's a Dunkin' Donuts two streets over. My slippers drag against the sidewalk with every step I take. These are my favorite slippers, and I try not to step in any gum. Finally, I reach the store and walk in, my long blonde hair blowing as I pull the door open. The place is deserted (obviously—it's five AM), and the clerk behind the counter seems to be dozing comfortably.

"Two glazed, please," I request. The girl looks up. Her septum is pierced, and fierce streaks of cobalt weave through her unnaturally platinum blonde hair. She eyes my shoulder with admiration.

"Sure thing, kid. Nice tattoo."

I glance down. My sleeve has fallen off my shoulder, and my runes are exposed. I glare at the girl and pull my sleeve up roughly. The girl shrugs, unfazed, and grabs two donuts from the front display. "$2.42," she says. I throw her a wad of bills, and she counts out the change.

Soon enough, I'm back on the street, my sweater buttoned up to my neck. I inhale the donuts like someone just released from a hunger strike, surprising myself with my own hunger. As I walk, completely oblivious to everyone around me, I nearly tripped over a homeless man. "For the love of Valentine!" I mumble.

The man is sitting on the sidewalk, his back pressed against a building. His eyes are closed, but I can tell he's not asleep. When the curse passes through my lips, his eyes fly open. They're the same blue as the hair of the Dunkin' Donuts girl, framed by thick lashes as black as his hair. He would be a handsome man, if not for the scar that slashed from his temple to the opposite side of his face, down his cheek and looping under his lips to end at his chin. It was long healed, although still the angry red color of blood.

"_What_ did you say?" he demands. He pulls himself to his feet and stares down at me. I can see now through his threadbare clothing that rune scars crisscross his body. He's Nephilim.

"I said for the love of Valentine." His intimidating stare makes me defiant. His blue eyes, a foot higher than mine, flash.

"You're new Nephilim, aren't you?"

"New? I've been a Shadowhunter all my life, old man," I retort hotly.

"Old man?" The man narrows his eyes at me. "Do you know how old I am, little girl?"

"Look, I have better things to do than argue with some senior citizen all day." I start to walk away, but he catches my arm and spins me to face him.

"I know things about Valentine Morgenstern that would make your skin crawl," he hisses. "He's not what you think."

I freeze. My anger fizzles out, and I stare up at him with expressionless eyes. "Talk," I finally say.

"My name is Alec Lightwood," he begins. He starts walking, and I follow him.

"Cassie Brokenstar," I introduce.

"Elliot and Ardena's daughter?" Alec asks with token interest.

"That's me," I say grimly. Why is it that whenever adults hear my last name, they want to know if I'm Elliot and Ardena's daughter? How many Brokenstars do they know?

Alec laughs shortly and humorlessly before continuing. "The things I'm going to tell you, Cassie, I promise will be very disturbing. You're going to have nightmares almost as bad as the ones I had. Can you handle that?"

"You think I'm weak?" I cock an eyebrow, just an invitation for him to agree.

"She's just like Jace," Alec mumbles to himself. He doesn't look at me, and I don't think I was supposed to hear what he'd said. "No," he says, turning back to me. "I don't think you're weak. But you're young."

"Get on with it, or don't tell me at all," I challenge, brow still raised. Alec enters a small building, and I follow him, up a flight of stairs to a small, stark room. There is a table and two chairs. He sits in one, and I take the other.

"Okay." Alec pauses a moment, and then he begins.

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**sorry for confusing you last chapter. hopefully this straightens things out. thanks to the lovely two who reviewed. review again! and i hope you appreciated my tribute to the genius Cassandra Clare, who by the way, i am not. okay, well, bye! review this and my MI oneshots and "Letting Go of Max."**


	4. The Awful Truth

**chapter three: the awful truth**

I was brought up in an Institute, in fact the same Institute where you live now. I lived there with my parents, Maryse and Robert, my sister Isabelle, my brother Max, and our tutor Hodge Starkweather. When I was eleven, the son of the great Shadowhunter Michael Wayland came to live with us. His name was Jace. Mom and Dad kind of adopted Jace, and Hodge trained us together. Jace and I became _parabatai_, and we were even closer than brothers.

It is important for you to know something, Cassie. Valentine is not the hero, the _god_ you think he is. He was a horrible man. His Circle was obsessed with wiping out Downworlders, and any Nephilim that stood in his way. He was a ruthless killer. He even burned down his own demon-infested home. He ended up killing himself, his wife, and his young son. But then seventeen years later, he reappeared. He'd burned the bodies of Michael Wayland, his wife, and his son in the place of his family's.

We learned a horrible truth then. Jace had been lied to his whole life. The man who had brought Jace up was not Michael Wayland, as Jace had been told. Valentine had raised him, telling him he was Michael. Valentine was his father. He had a newfound sister, Clary, and both of them were the children of Valentine and his ex-wife Jocelyn Fairchild. Jocelyn had raised Clary, so neither Clary nor Jace had even known about each other.

So you see, Cassie, Valentine is not who you'd originally thought. I know this is hard to believe. I know you don't want to believe it, and you don't have to. But now you know the truth about Valentine—the awful truth—even if you don't believe it.

As for my story, it gets a lot more complicated. Since I was fourteen, I've struggled with being gay. I hated myself for it, and when I fell in love with Jace, I hated myself _and_ Jace. Only my sister Isabelle knew, and I was furious when Clary found out. Especially because it was so obvious Jace was falling for Clary. I know what you're thinking, thinking that's incest. Jace and Clary had no idea they were even related when they first fell for each other. I know how hard it was. It was hard all around, with me being in love with my almost-brother and Jace being in love with his sister.

Valentine was asking Jace to help him, but Jace wouldn't. Mom didn't trust Jace after that. She thought that Jace had known the whole time that Valentine was his father. He honestly didn't. He had no idea. I was mad at her for a long time for that. And then the Clave—that's like the Circle of the old times—and its leader, Inquisitor Imogen Herondale, decided Jace needed to be arrested. He spent many a long night in that dark cell. Finally, we managed to save him and beat back Valentine, at least for the time being.

But we didn't know what was to come. This is the violent part. Are you ready?

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**hello lovelies in the fanfiction world! thanks for reading this. poor Alec. but we already know all of this. it will get more interesting, i promise. review! then go read my other MI stories, and if you're a Twilight fan, check out those too!**

**if anyone's read _The Hunger Games_ by Suzanne Collins and would like to beta a maybe multichap fic, shoot me a PM.**


	5. Turnover of the Glass City

**chapter four: turnover of the glass city**

We decided to go to Idris. The Clave was having a meeting in Alicante, and Mom and Dad had to be there. They were taking Isabelle, Max, Jace, and I, plus another woman, Madeleine. Clary wanted to go, but Jace would not allow it. My, um, warlock boyfriend, at the time at least, Magnus, opened a portal for us. But we ran into a bunch of Forsaken. We managed to fight them off, but they killed Madeleine. And unfortunately, Clary's best friend Simon, who is—was—a vampire, was in the wrong place at the wrong time. The Forsaken seriously injured him, and Jace had no choice but to take Simon through the portal. Downworlders were forbidden in Alicante, and we had to hide him.

Simon's story is an interesting one. He was just a mundie tagalong at first, following Clary. Then one night he ended up at the Hotel Dumont, which was infested with vampires, and became one himself. Later, Valentine was trying to summon a demon. He needed the blood of a child from each the Children of the Night, the Children of the Moon, the Children of Lilith, and the Fair Folk, and Simon became the vampire representative. He nearly died, but Jace saved him by letting him drink his blood. After Simon drank Shadowhunter blood, he was suddenly able to come out in the sunlight.

The Clave said they would send Simon back to New York, and I was chosen to deliver him there. The new Inquisitor was so nice to me. I turned Simon over without a fight, being assured that the Inquisitor would deliver him safely. I was lied to. I hate the feeling of being deceived, don't you? Simon was arrested. They called him a Daylighter.

Just as all this was happening, Clary showed up. She'd made a portal of her own and had managed to make it to Alicante. She was staying with the lycanthrope Lucian Graymark and his sister, Amatis Herondale. We were staying with Patrick Penhallow, his daughter Aline, and Aline's cousin, Sebastian Verlac. Aline seemed nice, eager but nice. And Sebastian...well, I had no clue what to think of him. He seemed nice enough, but had these insane mood swings that had him pissed off at one moment and giddy the next.

Then, the demon towers fell. Valentine had destroyed their demon-repelling power, and soon Alicante was crawling with demons. The city of glass was burning. Shadowhunters everywhere were killed, and my brother Max was one of them. Max was only nine years old. Cassie, can you imagine coming home to your burning house and seeing your dad cradling the body of your nine-year-old brother? It turned out Sebastian had betrayed us all. He'd knocked Isabelle out and then killed Max. Who kills a nine-year-old? If only I'd been there. I left Isabelle and Max with Sebastian. Left them with a killer. I hated myself for so long after that. It was all my fault.

Valentine appeared before the Clave as a Projection. He gave us clear terms: surrender to him or die. We chose the latter.

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**i'm really sorry, guys. these chapters are hopelessly short. anyhooda, thanks for the reviews, keep them up! don't forget to read and review! then go check out my other MI fics!**


	6. Liar, Liar

**chapter five: liar, liar**

"That's not true!" I finally interrupt.

I've listened to Alec's tale without interruption, no matter how crazy he sounded. But this is too much. "You're saying that Valentine killed people for fun and told this—this _Clave_ that he was going to kill them if they didn't surrender? You're insane! You're making it up! There's no way this is even possible! Valentine would never do that! He was a great leader! And if he's such a freaking ruthless killer like you say, _how come my parents are so loyal_?"

"They don't know any better," Alec says simply. "I remember your father. He was young and eager to please. He and Ardena decided to join up with Valentine, simply because they would rather live. They were spared. But others weren't so lucky..."

"Shut up, Alec Lightwood!" I shout. I stand up in rage, the chair squeaking behind me. "Just shut up! You don't know what you're saying!"

"Is it all out of your system yet?" asks Alec patiently. "Can I talk again?"

I sit, silently steaming. As pissed off as I am, I really want to know the rest of the story. I let a "yes" escape my teeth, breathe deeply to calm myself, and am thrown back into Alec's world.

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**jeez! can my chapters get any shorter? lol. sorry. review. (please?? pretty please? with Jace on top?)**


	7. The Most Horrifying Ways

**WARNING: This chapter is pretty graphic. Just saying. Watch out.**

**chapter six: the most horrifying ways**

Valentine set an army of demons and blindly loyal Shadowhunters on us. It was one of the most truly horrifying sights of my life. Everything was wiped out, everyone killed. Demons slew unarmed Nephilim, and the Shadowhunters that followed Valentine were just as bad. I watched Malachi kill Magnus. I watched as he took a seraph blade into his back, Cassie. Imagine. Your little brother, killed by—killed by someone who does not deserve to be called a person. Your boyfriend, possibly the only person in the entire world who loved you for who you were, killed by a man who acted loyal to the Clave. I watched as Malachi raised the blade and _killed Magnus_. And I just stood there, dead scared. I could have _done something_, Cassie. I could have stopped it. I should have stepped in front and let the blade take me instead. But I couldn't. And Magnus paid for it.

Somehow, the destruction around me seemed to narrowly avoid me. The only injury I got from that horrible night was this scar on my face, where I battled with a demon. I killed that demon, and many more. I had never killed a demon before the attack on Alicante. But somehow I found the strength that night.

When it was all over, Valentine patrolled the streets. He was looking for the living. I played dead, and laid in a pool of other people's blood, as I waited for him to leave. When he and his army were satisfied with the destruction, they left Alicante, soon to rebuild a new capital, Katliss. Once they were gone, I wandered around Alicante. It was obvious that I was the only living thing left. I happened upon bodies of children and adults, people my family knew and those who were nameless. Faceless. Just victims. But what hurt me the most deeply...it was my sister.

I found Isabelle's body wrapped around Simon's, almost like she was protecting him. There was a hole cut in her chest, and her heart had been ripped out. There was no evidence that what she had been wearing was black. Whoever had killed her—and I had reason to believe it was Valentine himself—had taken special care with her, and Simon, Jace, and Clary. All of Simon's limbs had been severed from his body, strewn around him like bloody sticks, and the stake that had ultimately taken his life was still wedged in his chest. Jace's face had been slashed nearly to an unrecognizable pulp, his golden skin all gone. Clary had been killed the most delicately. There was a gaping hole in her throat, and she had bled the most out of all of them. I doubled over when I saw them and vomited all over the street, the sick puce mixing with the bloody red.

I ran from Alicante, creating a sloppy portal. I came back to New York City and bought a loft. I didn't sleep for weeks after my return, because every time I closed my eyes, the grotesque images were there. Isabelle's unbeating heart, separated from the rest of her body. Jace's once perfect, now destroyed, face. All the blood. So much blood.

In the years that followed, I kept tabs on what was happening. The Shadowhunter race was rebuilding itself, with help from Valentine. The Shadowhunters who had stayed loyal to Valentine all through the Rebellion, which became the term for the Alicante massacre, got married and had children. They all agreed to keep the Rebellion a secret from the new Shadowhunters, from your generation. The Circle wanted you to believe that Valentine was perfect in every way. Valentine let ordinary humans who showed promise drink from the Mortal Cup. Half of them died in the process. The Nephilim swelled to a high number, all united under the man called Our Lord Valentine.

I don't think the Circle knows I exist. I doubt they even considered there could have been a survivor of the Rebellion. I have stayed in hiding, and I stay out of the Circle's way. I don't kill demons anymore. I am still Nephilim, but I refuse to call myself a Shadowhunter.

Now you know the whole story. The truth. It hurts, doesn't it?

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**okay, review again! and then check out my other MI fics (reviews for "Letting Go of Max," one of the best things i've ever written, are wanted), my new Hunger Games oneshot (if you've read it. if not, go!), and my Twilight fics.**


	8. Keep On Living

**chapter seven: keep on living**

I shouldn't believe it. But I do. I know the truth. Something in Alec's eyes tells me that every word he has spoken to me was true. All I can get out is, "Oh my_ God_." There's really nothing else to say.

"I know," Alec responds. Pain is obvious in his cobalt eyes. I close my eyes and think of the destruction in the once-capital of Idris. Alicante. The word is foreign to me. I remember growing up in Katliss. No mention of a city called Alicante ever slipped. And yet, I picture it vividly, as if I had been there the night of the Rebellion. Valentine—he was no longer my lord—watching calmly as demons annihilate everything around him. Bodies of Shadowhunters strewn across the streets like some sick child's game of pick-up-sticks. Alec's friends, his sister, lying dead in a pool of blood.

The thoughts are almost too much. I feel a strange pain in my stomach. I double over and start to dry heave, the picture of Isabelle Lightwood's once-beautiful body polluting my thoughts. "Cassie?" Alec's voice is alarmed. "Are you okay?"

"Give me. A minute," I pant. "I'll be. Fine." When the pain subsides, I sit up straight and looks straight at Alec. "Excuse my tact—or total lack thereof—but why didn't you just kill yourself?"

Alec smiles, the gesture more a dark contortion of lips than a real smile. "Believe me, Cassie, the thought has crossed my mind a million different times since the Rebellion. I have thought of so many ways to end the pain, to do myself in. I wanted to. I wanted nothing more than to be with Jace and Isabelle and _Magnus_ for eternity. But...something stopped me." He pauses, the smile playing at his lips turning slightly sheepish. "This sounds crazy. D-list-horror-film crazy. But I felt like I had some kind of...unfinished business." Alec laughs nervously, but I'm paying rapt attention. "I knew I was the only one alive, and I didn't want the truth to die with me. So, I stayed alive. For the sake of the truth." Alec eyes me sideways.

"I don't think that's crazy at all," I assure him quickly. And I don't. I think it makes perfect sense: he didn't want everyone to grow up like me, thinking that Valentine was some saint who we should worship. Alec's face softens.

"Good," he says, relief apparent in his tone. He smiles again, and this time it seems genuine. Then it fades, and he looks slightly uncomfortable. "Listen, I don't want to push anything on you or anything like that, but I've enjoyed talking to you this morning." I hear the unspoken "even if it's about my dead family." "And I wanted to tell you that if, uh, you ever wanted to come and see me, to, um, talk or whatever, I'll hang out on the street corner for you. I get kind of lonely sometimes, and it helps having someone to talk to."

"I know," I agree. "I'm the only person my age anywhere near here. It gets kind of boring after a while, just playing with myself. Maybe I'll come see you again soon."

A brief look of hope crosses Alec's war-torn, weary face. "I'd like that." But then the look fades, and he says, "You better get back home. Your parents might be wondering where you are."

"What time is it?" I ask.

"Almost seven," he reports.

I curse under my breath. "I better get home. My parents are early risers. But it was really, truly awesome talking to you. You bet I'll visit soon."

"Do you want me to walk you home?" Alec offers. He's on his feet too. I briefly consider saying yes, because I do want him to walk me home, but I turn him down. I don't want him to have to see the Institute again, see where he used to live, because I know it will hurt him more than all the memories dredged up did.

"I can find my way, thanks," I respond. Alec rushes to the door and pulls it open for me. "Thanks. Really. For everything." I smile brightly at him. "I won't let the truth die. And I won't tell anyone."

"Thank you," Alec says simply. He shoves ahead of me, into the New York air and back to his street corner, and then he's gone.

I watch his back as he shoves his way through crowds of people, until he's gone. I stand for a minute, letting everything wash over me, then make my way back home.

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**the end is near!! ...of "The Echo" that is. i finished it today. there will be one more chapter. thanks for reviewing! **

**also, if anyone is a Twilight fandom-er, PM me for details of a super-special tribute i'm putting together! :)**


	9. Ave Atque Vale

**chapter eight: ave atque vale**

I hole up in my room for most of that day, brooding. I try to avoid my parents, basically disgusted at them. They know what Valentine was capable of, know what he had done, and yet they still follow his principles. My dad had been trusted by him—and _proud_ of that fact. He was next in line to head the Circle, behind the man who helped Valentine ravage Alec's life. And my mother is happy for my dad, that he'll one day lead the Circle. The Brokenstar family are all Valentine-lovers. _I_ had been a Valentine-lover. I can't believe my own stupidity.

"Cassie?" My mother's voice, followed by a bang on the door. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I call through the door. "Just tired." I quickly pull the covers over my body to give the illusion of napping, if and when Mom comes in. She does. She sees me lying there under the covers, Paramore's seventh album blasting from the old-fashioned MP3 player I prefer over all the new technology for music playing.

"Okay. You sure you're okay?" Mom verifies, looking worried.

I roll my eyes like a typical teenager. "_Mother_," I complain. Mom, knowing her place, backs off. The song changes. I roll over onto my side and close my eyes.

I hear a sound, like a thump from outside my window. _Impossible_, I think. There's no way anything can get all the way that high. But, feeling paranoid, I get up to check anyway. There, hovering outside my window, is Valentine Morgenstern. "Hello, Cassandra," he murmurs with a smooth smile. I can see a glow behind him, and it's apparent he has a seraph blade.

"Impossible," I gasp. "You're dead. You're dead."

"Ah, but am I?" contradicts Valentine. He raises the seraph blade. I scream, slamming the window closed and trying to breathe.

Then I wrench out of bed, panting and covered in a cold sweat. The ear buds from my MP3 rip out of my ears. I reach for my glasses and check the clock. It's two in the morning this time. I flop back down onto the pillows. Yesterday at this time, I had been dreaming. Or having a nightmare, a different one. One about a boy with black hair and blue eyes, surrounded by bodies, lying in blood...

Alec.

I sit up quickly and pull myself out of bed. I have to see Alec. I don't know what this strange urge is, and I know it's two AM, but my feet keep trying to carry me to Alec's street corner. I throw my waist-length, straight blonde hair into a side ponytail and kick on my vintage Converse low-tops, the ones with the lollipops. I pull on a t-shirt that my mom had gotten from a Flyleaf concert when she was my age—before being corrupted by Valentine—and given to me. Then I step out into the air.

I practically run to Alec's street corner. The streets are not as congested as they are at two PM, and I make my way there quickly. He isn't there when I arrive. My heart is crashing in my chest as I search the area for him. He's nowhere to be found. But then something white catches my eye. I grab at it and realize it's an envelope. My name is printed on the front. I immediately know, just by looking at it, that something is very wrong. I tear open the back and pull out the note inside. It's printed in nice, even letters on a rumpled sheet of paper. It says,

_Dear Cassie,_

_I hate that I'm doing this to you. But, remember, the only reason I stayed alive was for the truth. Now that you know, I don't have a reason to live. Sounds dramatic, and looks very dramatic on paper, haha. Just know that I'm probably happy again, because as you read this I'm with Isabelle and Jace and Magnus again. I feel like an asshole for telling you that I wanted you to visit me again then killing myself, but it was the only way I could guarantee that you'd get this note. I'm really sorry for everything that I did wrong. It was so nice to know you. I hope you feel the same way._

_Keep the truth alive.  
__Alec_

"No!" I scream, not caring who hears. The echo of the word bounces back at me. I stare down at the note, my eyes swimming. Alec's gone. I crumple the paper into a ball in my fist, trying not to cry. I carry it with me as I run back to the Institute, tears streaming silently down my cheeks.

When I arrive back in my room, miraculously not waking either of my parents up with my less-than-silent gait, I collapse onto my bed. The full force of what Alec has done suddenly threatens to crush me, and the pressure of what he's left me falls onto my shoulders. I unfold the note and reread it. _Keep the truth alive_. I look up to the ceiling, the tears falling fast now. "Ave atque vale, Alec Lightwood," I whisper. "I'll keep the truth alive."

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**the end! i hope y'all liked it. i'm pretty sure i spelled the hail and farewell right, but if i didn't, correct me please. oh, btw, i own nothing except for Cassie's Converse. all right, review, and then that's it! adios!**


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